


where is your mind?

by angelcult



Series: noncontober [4]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Demon Deals, Forced Masturbation, Implied/Referenced Terminal Illness, M/M, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Groping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26819266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelcult/pseuds/angelcult
Summary: Dipper makes a deal with Bill after learning of Mabel’s possibly life-ending illness. The demon holds up his end of the bargain, but not at the price Dipper expects.
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Series: noncontober [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947919
Comments: 1
Kudos: 83





	where is your mind?

“Do you realize this deal is more suited towards me than you?” Dipper gritted out, eyes narrowed and his lips pulled down in a frown.

“ _ Suited!” _ Bill repeats, and then laughs. “Was that an intentional pun, Pine Tree? Lighten up, besides, I’m doing this for you and Shooting Star. A few hours in your meat sack and then,” He leans in, his one eye large and round and threatening. “Your sister won’t be so sick anymore.”

Dipper holds eye contact, hazel eyes looking duller and deader than Bill has ever seen them, and he knows that the kid would have taken the deal even if it had been his soul on the table.

_ What a martyr,  _ Bill thinks as he holds his hand out, blue sparks and then blue flames lighting up his arm all the way down to his wrist.  _ He’d do anything for his sister, even if it killed him. _

Dipper doesn’t even ask or worry like he would any other time, his want to save Mabel makes him reckless, he’d do anything.

He’s lucky he’s Bill’s favorite.

They shake hands and the flames travel up Dipper’s arm, and he doesn’t even flinch, the way they glint in his dead eyes is beautiful.

Once they drop hands, Dipper gives him a frown.

“How do I know if you’re telling the truth?”

Bill rolled his eye. “Still worried about your sister even  _ after  _ you’ve given your meatsuit to me on a silver platter.”

“Yeah, about that-“ He pushed back his wild curls with one hand, he’s so much taller now, taller and older and the bags under his eyes are much more prominent after five years of sleepless nights.

“Shouldn’t my soul be floating astrally next to my body right about now?” Dipper pointed out and Bill did something with his eye, it crinkled like he was smiling and Dipper suddenly felt very cold very fast.

“No, I was thinking something a little more like—“ He pressed his finger to Dipper’s forehead and the world went from grayscale to color and he’s confused and then his mind is being pushed back from the forefront and- oh.

_ Oh. _

Dipper’s body is moving, much more naturally than it had when Bill had possessed him when he was thirteen, and he wants to think  _ stop  _ but instead he thinks  _ get undressed  _ and so many confusing signals are being sent to his brain that it takes the loudest one.

His shoes come off first, and then his pants, and shirt and he can’t control his hands and this is  _ so much worse  _ than letting Bill throw his body down the stairs for a few hours.

Forced to turn to the mirror, he hears a voice but it’s only  _ his  _ except that it’s not really his voice, it’s like constant thoughts that he knows aren’t his own but he can’t hope to control or repress and now he’s sliding a hand down his chest, tracing his fingers around sensitive nipples and to his disgust and horror, it feels good.

He wants to yank his hand away but it’s like a dream, he feels heavy and underwater and he can only watch himself as he does things he doesn’t want to do.

His hands slid down his stomach and he inhaled sharply at the sensitive tickle, fingertips barely touching skin, just enough to send sparks of  _ more  _ down his spine.

He’s in front of his mirror, he can see himself, see the way his eyes are softly glowing blue in the dim light, how red and flushed he is, just from a little touching.

Fingers trace the inside of his thigh, back and forth, light taps of the finger and then nails follow on such sensitive skin, digging in and clawing upwards towards his groin, ripping a soft moan out of his mouth, and he presses his eyes together tightly.

His eyes are forced back open and the glowing is brighter for a moment before it dulls back down and his hands repeat the process with his other thigh and he feels himself getting hard from the way it hurts. 

_ Make it stop  _ buried beneath the command to  _ touch yourself touch yourself  _ and there’s a hand grasping his half-hard cock but it’s too dry, too much drag, and not the good kind and his body is sending signals to a brain he’s currently not in charge of it,  _ Bill is,  _ so of course he doesn’t even stop when it starts making Dipper feel red and raw, when he starts to get softer instead of harder and his mouth makes a pained noise and then his hand is letting go and his tongue is licking at his palm.

One lick, then two, then his fingers are slipping into his mouth, fingertips against his tongue, pressing down onto the fleshy muscle and gagging him, pushing to the back of throat and making him choke, spit running down his chin before his fingers are pulled out and he swallows hard.

It leaves an ache in his throat, like when he cries too much for too long.

The heavy feeling of being underwater is still as strong, and Dipper can only watch as he touches himself  _ again,  _ this time his body is more receptive to his warm, spit-slicked hand and he gets harder, twitching to full mast soon enough.

_ Wow, look at that  _ louder than  _ Please, Bill, just stop. _

He touches himself slowly, hating how the mirror brings attention to his flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, or the way his cock twitches on the upstrokes over the head, he’s always been much more sensitive there.

Dipper hates it and he wants his  _ body  _ to hate it, but instead it reacts with pleasure and a thrum for “more, more, more” just beneath the surface, wanting to be pushed over the brink of orgasm while his mind pleads to stop. 

The pad of his thumb traces over the slit, back and forth, it sends a shock of pleasure down his spine, over and over again. Continuously, it makes his back arch and his toes curl into the wood of the attic floor, his free hand clenches at his thigh as his body pants.

It’s too much, make it  _ stop. _

His wish is granted in the form of his orgasm, hard and sending him to his knees, slowly sliding down as cum splatters against his hands and thigh and the floor and his hand just  _ keeps moving  _ long after the pleasure has become pain, and he whines, tries to twitch his hips away.

Any attempts to make him hard again are flukes, and eventually, his hand falls limply to his side.

He tilts to the side and slumps into his bed, and the feeling is not dissimilar to breaking surface tension, he’s not underwater anymore, no longer dream-heavy.

He can’t hear Bill nor feel him, and he wonders if he just left after getting what he wanted, Dipper’s humiliation.

And now, everything is hitting him full force. Just how good it felt, how much his body  _ loved  _ it, the ache of the insides of his thighs.

Dipper covers his mouth and forces himself to swallow to keep from being sick and instead stumbles to his feet to the half-bathroom on the second floor.

He doesn’t waste time turning on the water in the shower, so hot it’s steaming, and he climbs inside, pleased by the way it burns and paints his skin pink, then red.

He feels fucking filthy.

Bill’s voice doesn’t ring in his head, all thoughts are his own, it’s  _ his  _ voice in his head now, no unwanted, too loud thoughts that aren’t his.

“I did it for Mabel,” He tells himself softly, curling up beneath the water of the still cold shower floor. “I did it for her.”

It sends sparks of cold and pain up his spine, making him numb inside and out, like a soothing balm.

But, no matter how soothing, it doesn’t make the hurt any less.


End file.
